A Tame Wolf
by AeroRace
Summary: Dean has been hunting his whole life and nothing was new anymore. Not until one particular night when he meets a werewolf like no other with eyes the same as his new classmate, Castiel.


**Hello! Thanks for reading! My first Supernatural fic, so I hope I do well. This will probably become mature later on, but for now I'll keep it a teens, but you've been warned. I'd love feedback on it if you can! Try not to be too harsh with critiques, but kind and constructive criticism is fine!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters.**

"Class, we have a new student today," started Ms. Milton, but paused and gave an exasperated sigh. "Dean Winchester, I would appreciate it if you put your head up for once. You're being rude." Dean groaned and didn't comply, continuing to rest his head on his arms on the desk. He spent the night chasing a vampire until three in the morning because the only way to swiftly catch a vampire was to sneak up on it and his cover had been broken when he stepped on some cat's tail. The vampire disappeared and most of his time spent was actually searching for it, which was incredulously tedious. His English teacher must have been in a bad mood or something because she didn't fight back as usual. Instead, she continued with the introduction. "This is Castiel Novak. Castiel, please sit in the seat next Ash by the window."

Dean almost looked up at the mention of the weird-ass name, but his weary body told him to ignore the urge and Dean didn't fight it. He would see the guy sooner or later.

The bell rung and Dean jumped out of sleep. "Dean Winchester," said Ms. Milton as he opened his eyes groggily. He glanced around the room and the class had already shuffled out, including the new kid.

"Yeah?" he asked, yawning and standing from his chair. After gathering his notebook and pencil, he made his way up to the desk where his redheaded teacher sat glaring at him.

"You can't keep doing this. Please stop staying up late. I don't know what you're doing but it's effecting your grades and those are more important than whatever partying or gaming you do at night."

Dean rolled his eyes. He hated when people made assumptions, thinking they knew him. They had no clue that what he did in the middle of the night was saving people's lives, which he thought was far more important than grades. Besides, he was passing with a D. As long as he didn't fail, he didn't care. "Right, will do Ms. M," he lied as he begun to walk out of the room.

"I'm serious, Dean," she called as he walked into the hallway, almost late for his next class. Not like that was anything new, either.

-x-

"Hey, Bobby. What's up?" Dean asked, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he attempted to open a stubborn baby pickle jar.

"Tonight's a fool moon," said Bobby's husky voice from the phone.

"Damn, I forgot," said Dean with a sigh. He hated full moons. Full moons meant staying up all night waiting for a werewolf, which would probably never come. They weren't common in Lawrence, Kansas, and so they were usually the most boring nights of the month. However they were worse when there actually were werewolves. They were Dean's least favorite supernatural creatures he had to hunt. Vampires, ghosts, demons, things like that all seemed human but werewolves were something else; big dogs who could occasionally walk on two legs and tower over an average male human. Everything else looked human, more or less, and it made them easier to kill for Dean. It wasn't that he relished the thought of killing another human; it was that they didn't feel like something that could overpower him in an instant. They were more like bullies with extra abilities, and Dean was used to beating up bullies. Werewolves, on the other hand, were different on two other levels. For one, they didn't know they were monsters. They woke up from a full moon not knowing they had killed the night before and killing a werewolf was basically killing a human, even if they looked less like them than other creatures.

Second of all, they looked like pure monsters with their murderous stares and share killing machines in the form of teeth and claws.

Dean finally opened the pickle jar as the door to the apartment opened. "I gotta go, Bobby. Talk to you tomorrow," he said, then took the phone from his shoulder and pressed the red off button. "Hey, Sam," he said as Dean put his backpack down.

"Hey," said Sam as he plopped onto the couch. "I'm going hunting with you tonight," he said in a matter-of-fact manner.

Dean brought a baby pickle to his mouth and with a muffled voice he said, "No you aren't. Full moon." Sam's eyes narrowed as his brother swallowed. "Hey, don't look at me like that. You know I don't like you coming with me on full moons."

"And you know you're only two years older than me, right?" Sam protested.

"Two and a half," mumbled Dean. "I'm the one with the car and I say no. Some other time," he said with finality. Dean hated denying his brother, especially since Dean had always loved hunting when he was young with his dad. It wasn't necessarily that Dean was worried about Sam's safety; it was more about his grades. Dean knew from personal experience how hunting was bad for his school, and even social, life. Dean didn't want the same for his intelligent younger brother.

"Whatever," Sam said while rolling his eyes and unzipping his backpack to take out his homework, and Dean figure he should do the same. He wasn't going to, but he should.

-x-

Time ticked by until night started slowly rolling in, the sky changing into navy blue. "I'm off, Sam. 'Night."

"Yeah, 'night," said Sam in his grumpy sort of tone that he always used when Dean didn't let him on a hunt. He used to not say anything at all as a way of protest, but one time he didn't respond and Dean had come home bloody and almost passed out and the kid felt guilty for weeks, now making sure he always said goodbye to his brother.

The night was a little chilly but not as bad as it had been the last week and Dean was grateful for that. He would have to go to the park and sit there for hours until the sky would finally turn it's light shade of blue and he could sleep for an hour before having to go to school again. At least he could fall asleep in English again. It's not like Milton would be surprised.

Dean's phone vibrated in his pocket and he flipped it open, answering with a tired "Hello?"

"Hey, Dean," said Bobby. "Turns out you actually have something to do tonight. Someone called saying they saw this really big dog chained to a tree in the forest behind the park. Sounded like a wolf to me, and I reckon no one is keepin' a regular wolf chained up." Bobby was sort of a wild-animal expert in the town, which was usually how he got Dean hunting jobs. Vampires killed people with bite marks which people thought were from animals and werewolf prey looked just as it was, wild animal prey.

Dean was little surprise to hear this. "Yeah, but who keeps a werewolf chained up either? You sure this isn't just big husky or something?"

"How should I know?" grunted Bobby. "It's not like you have anything better to do than go check it out," he said, and Dean had to admit that he was right.

"Yeah, alright, whatever. I'll go take a look. I'll call you tomorrow," Dean said reluctantly.

"Yep. And be careful, boy. You know firsthand how nasty those things are," Bobby said before Dean heard the short beep from his phone telling him he had hung up.

Dean turned to walk into the woods, starting from the little hiking trail connected to the park. He regretted not asking Bobby the specifics of where the creature was, but then again he probably wouldn't have known either. He just had to look for some sort of sign that there was a chained up dog around.

And the sign came quicker than he had expected. After walking a bit down the path he heard a loud yawn-like sound. Werewolf or not, anything yawning that loud in the middle of a forest at night was something to be investigated.

The dead leaves cracked under Dean's feet as he walked in the direction of the noise. Soon enough he saw something shining in the distance attached to a large four-legged silhouette. The forest was loud under Dean's feet as he approached the figure, which became more and more clear as he neared it.

This was no dog. This was a werewolf.


End file.
